


and my memories are ghosts

by OhMaven



Series: Ghosts [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Gen, Unresolved Angst, angst with feelings, but I have plans to resolve this in a follow-up fic I swear, listen we all know I like to explore the angsty sides of this ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMaven/pseuds/OhMaven
Summary: Jyn Erso wakes up with no idea where she is, and no idea who this man who knows her name could possibly be.





	and my memories are ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imgoingtocrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/gifts).



> Happy Holidays! This is my contribution to TheRebelCaptainNetwork's Secret Santa exchange! I loved writing this story, based on the prompt amnesia and tangentially based on a poem I'll share at the end. If you liked this fic, or if you want to see more, please let me know in the comments! I could definitely continue on with this (and maybe have a few outlines for doing so!)

It was the light that roused her; sterile and bright, it wedged between her eyelids and pricked at her vision.  She lay where she was, eyes shut, attempting to gain some awareness of her surroundings. There was an eerie silence, the slight creak of someone’s weight in a chair, and the soft whirring of machinery that put her to mind of medical centers. In her right arm, there was pressure, and a certain heaviness.   
  
_ They were sedating her _ .   
  
How long did she have before the next round of medicine left her helpless again? Jyn Erso forced her eyes open, despite their heaviness, and found herself staring at a cool, neutral-colored, ceiling. She flexed the fingers of her left hand, feeling the pull of protesting, stationary, muscles beneath the skin. Apparently she hadn’t moved much lately. As the feeling returned to her fingertips, she lifted her hand to rest on her belly.    
  
The creaking noise came again, pulling her attention to a man sprawled in the chair beside her bed; he was long, and lanky, and snored slightly. She had no idea who he was. Hoping he would continue to sleep, Jyn’s left hand moved across her body to her right side, fingers gingerly exploring the needle lodged in her arm. It was hard work to rip the tape off her skin, but the needle came with it, opening a small gash in her arm - and then setting off an alarm.   
  
Jyn tossed the tape aside, and focused on getting herself upright - she didn’t have much  _ time _ , and her head was spinning more than she liked. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, pressing the balls of her feet into a floor that was cool, and tacky with the steady drip of blood coming from her arm. Here there was a small table, and a metal tray that had once held - well, she could only guess nothing good.   
  
“Oh hey! You’re awake!” The voice came from behind her, too flighty and familiar to feel comfortable; Jyn’s skin prickled between her shoulder blades and she pushed up from the bed to get her feet under her.   
  
The alarm was blaring incessantly now, and she could hear voices from the other end of the long medical bay. Her time was running short.   
  
It was the bedside companion who reached her first, of course, hands moving to catch her shoulders in a way that alarmed Jyn. She struck out with the metal tray, catching it hard against the side of his face; before he could hit the edge of her bed, she was already sprinting for the door. Some much larger person tried to get into her way, but she shoved the end of the tray hard into their belly and then down on top of their head when they doubled over. She had almost -  _ almost _ \- reached the keypad.   
  
Her feet were slick against the smooth floor, and her head was spinning, and she blamed those things for the fact that she didn’t get to the door before it opened.   
  
The man in the doorway looked like he was breathing hard, as though he had sprinted to get here. His angular face shone with the barest sheen of sweat, and his tousled dark hair gave her the impression that it hadn’t been so rumpled moments before. She raised the tray defensively, studying him for the best weakness.   
  
“Jyn.” When he spoke, he said only her name, her  _ real _ name, and she froze in mid-calculation; startled enough to meet his gaze. “It’s okay.”   
  
What was so startling  - the use of her name, or the sincerity he spoke with? There was something,  _ something _ , about him that froze Jyn in her tracks. The tray lowered, and then clattered to the floor, as he took slow steps towards her. She blinked hard, trying to ignore the growing inky darkness that was eating at the edges of her vision. As he moved, she tried to flinch away, but found herself rooted to the floor until his hands settled on her shoulders.   
  
“It’s okay,” he repeated, in that thick accent of his that she couldn’t quite place. “You can trust me.”   
  
Trust. That felt...important? The tension went slowly out of her body under the weight of his hands, and Jyn found she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. “You know my name.”   
  
As far as statements went, it wasn’t as bold as she would have liked; breathy and confused, and tainted with a longing Jyn didn’t like to admit having. She wanted to shake him until he answered the unspoken question: how? Instead, he simply nodded, and tightened his fingers around the curve of her shoulders.   
  
She understood why when, seconds later, she felt the needle in the base of her neck; felt her knees give out, and the world go black.   
  
The wiry strength of his arm around her ribs, and the gentle kiss pressed to her hair, were of course products of the sedation.

 

\----

 

As a rule, Jyn Erso did not have dreams. At least, not the way she felt normal people did. Whimsical, nonsensical nightmares were the purview of others. In her sleep, she always saw  _ them _ .   
  
Papa swinging her into the air, beaming at her, calling her Stardust.   
Mama whispering desperately to her, praying over her bed, falling into a heap in Lahmu’s dewy grass.   
Saw’s face framed in light, pressing a truncheon into her hand, refusing to look back as he left her behind.

She did not dream of other people, or other scenarios, and that is perhaps what made the dreams she had under the sedatives so distressing; it made her inability to escape them torturous.

Jyn dreamt of a weeping child, of blaster fire and the give of stormtrooper armor under her weapons, and of a star that burned planets alive. She dreamed of the man who knew her name. Who looked at her like she hung the stars, and like she swallowed them, too.    
  
She dreamt of a green light, and the chill of terror, and his arms wrapped tight around her as though there was nothing more precious than clutching her to him at the end of the world.   


 

  
  
\-----

  
  


It was the light that roused her; sterile and bright, it wedged between her eyelids and pricked at her vision.  She lay where she was, eyes shut, attempting to gain some awareness of her surroundings. There was an eerie silence, the slight creak of someone’s weight in a chair, and the soft whirring of machinery that put her to mind of medical centers. Jyn opened her eyes, and stared at the cool, neutral-colored ceiling.   
  
Beside her, the creaking of someone shifting in a chair drew her attention, and she turned her head to see the man who had known her name. He looked exhausted, but comfortable, as if he was accustomed to being awake for days at a time. Her eyes dropped to the insignia on the jacket he was wearing: Rebel intelligence. Well, that explained her name.

“Are you my guard, then?” Jyn managed to croak; annoyed that her throat and mouth were too dry to manage a more casual tone. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

The man leaned forward, setting his datapad on the edge of her bed, and picked up a canteen from the bedside table. “Water?”

Despite herself, Jyn took the canteen, gratefully downing the cool liquid. While she drank, he continued.

“You’re not a prisoner here, Jyn.” It looked like he might say more, but changed his mind. So she handed the canteen back, and gestured to the insignia, and the data pad. He shrugged. “I just didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Something about this unsettled Jyn. “Why do you care about whether or not I wake up alone?”

“Because I made a promise.”

Well, that was infuriatingly vague. Jyn crossed her arms, scowling at him in a way that often intimidated Saw’s partisans into complying with her wishes. The shadows in the corners of this man’s mouth deepened, as though he was trying not to smile. It made him look less severe, and more endearing.

It made her want to touch his cheek, to know what a genuine smile would actually look like.

“Who are you, anyway? If you’ve been watching me sleep, I think I at least get a name.”

The tenderness she’d been slowly getting used to evaporated into an intense expression Jyn couldn’t define, and didn’t want to.

“My name is Cassian.” He offered her no rank, and no explanation; Jyn wasn’t sure if that made him more or less dangerous, so she didn’t pursue that any further. She picked at the edge of the blanket covering her, wondering if he would answer if she asked about this mysterious problem.

“Why are you really here, Cassian? Did intelligence send you to question me?”

“No.” The sense of finality in that word was unsettling, and he was still staring at her with more intensity than she liked. “But I’ll answer your questions, if that will put you at ease.”

Jyn hadn’t expected that, but she thought she could use it to her advantage. “Alright, what promise did you make, and what does it have to do with me?”

He was still, and silent, staring at her with that incredibly intense expression; she wished he would say something, or look somewhere else. Jyn began to wonder if he  _ would _ answer.

“I promised to stick around,” he said finally.

“And that has to do with me because…?”

“I made the promise to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> In another life,  
> My hair is faded  
> And your skin is lined  
> But my eyes are still blue  
> And your grins are still wide  
> And our fingers are still entwined.
> 
> In another life,  
> I kiss you before you go.  
> You kiss me when you come back.  
> There are no wedding bells,  
> And silence is enough.
> 
> In another life,  
> There are no miracles.  
> My lungs are still fragile  
> And you are dead on a table somewhere.  
> But at least I get your body back.  
> At least I follow you soon after.
> 
> In another life,  
> I catch you  
> And we fall  
> Together.
> 
> In another life,  
> your bones are dust  
> and my memories are ghosts  
> and we are both forgotten,  
> a pair of faded names in stone,  
> dead and long long gone.
> 
> In another life,  
> life is a blessing  
> and death is not a tragedy.
> 
> —In another life, love is enough and we are happy.
> 
> (From this tumblr post, here: http://pencap.tumblr.com/post/151074488058/in-another-life-my-hair-is-faded-and-your-skin)


End file.
